And all the king's men put the king back together
by lowi
Summary: Title: And all the king's men put the king back together again /He is held just as tight as usual, but suddenly Teddy doesn't know anymore. Something upsets him. /The 2012 Hogwarts Games /For Liss and Blue /Placed second in The Fan-Favourite July 2012 Oneshot Awards!, at HPFC


_A/N: This is written for __The 2012 Hogwarts Games__ (Event: Cycling – Road) at the __HPFC__ forum. I used the optional prompt __recuperate__._

_Many thanks to my beta-reader __mew-tsubaki__._

_Dedicated to __fabricated fantasies__ and __BlueEyes444_

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**And all the king's men put the king back together again**

Yes, let's hide under the covers and pretend that it's your own little kingdom where you can be you and no one minds because you're the one setting the rules. It's easy to pretend that, isn't it? Both because you want it so much to be true—that no one would care about him and you being together—but also because he's right there, smiling at you and making you feel so happy it actually feels as though you've got an entire kingdom.

He snuggles closer, closing his eyes for a moment, and you think about how you would have so, _so_ many rules in your kingdom. You would be good, of course you would, but you'd also be rigorous, but just until they, your subjects, had learned.

Learned how they weren't to jeer at you, nor at him. Learned how they weren't to look weirdly at the two of you. Learned how they were to let you be happy.

"What are you thinking about?" James suddenly asks, and you don't quite know how to tell him you're thinking of becoming a king, without sounding stupid, so you just prop your head up on your palm and say "Nothing."

He doesn't buy it, though, that you can tell, but he doesn't keep nagging either, and maybe that is one of the things that makes him so special to you, how he lets you be you without trying to interfere or intervene. Even though you, from time to time, fear that his never wanting to fight is just because he's afraid that he'll never get someone better than you.

You wish for that kingdom to reappear again, because if you owned it, you would be the one with the crown and he would obviously want no one but you. You'd be the one _everyone_ would want, and thus James would want you, too. He wouldn't see you anymore as someone he could use for his thirst for gay sex. Because here, in the real world, there is no one else for him than you; you both know that.

"Teddy," he then says, and maybe you are just paranoid, because he pokes your cheek with a twisted grin and looks as though there is nowhere else he'd rather be in this moment than in this bed with you and the twisted blankets and the sheets that maybe should be changed as soon as possible. "You keep zoning out—what is it?"

You slide down a bit in the bed, because you don't know how to answer; he sounds concerned and all, but something makes you uncomfortable…and it can't be ignored anymore, whether it is how you're starting to sweat or it is the possibility that you're never going to mean something to him—you don't know. "Nothing. I'm fine. I think I have to take a shower," you answer, even though you feel as though it would be a much better idea to shove _him_ out of the bed for a moment so you could have it—and the safety of hiding under the blankets—for yourself.

"I'll join you," he answers casually and you wonder why the fuck you're suddenly thinking so much. Like, where even did this idea of James using you as some kind of substitute come from? In these last few months—these last few months of having _no one_ but each other, if you're being honest—you were completely sure about what he felt and what you felt, but now suddenly these qualms appear.

You want to say "I wouldn't have it any other way" just as you usually answer—just as you're _supposed_ to answer—but you can't because you really, really badly need to think for just a few minutes and sort everything out because, quite literally, you're freaking out. So you say, "No, I'll take it by myself," and just like that you roll out of the bed and refuse to look behind you because you don't want to see how James looks at you.

There are two options: he'll look absolutely broken—which you can't deal with, of course you can't. Or…he won't. And that is something you can't deal with either, because wouldn't that ratify everything about how he's just using you?

So you firmly stare straight ahead of you as you leave the bedroom after pulling on a pair of boxers. James doesn't seem to be moving, at least you can't hear any bed sheets being thrown away, or a pair of feet running after you so that he can grab hold of you and embrace you so hard you'll never doubt again.

But if you don't want to doubt, why are you doing it? You open the door to the bathroom and, after locking the door behind you, step over to the mirror and just stand there, a bit hunched over the sink as though you are afraid you're going to throw up. Your face is pale with red blotches on your cheeks and the face in front of you doesn't feel like _you_, because your eyes are too open and your lips way too red.

You watch your trembling shoulders in the mirror as you're letting your hair change colour from red to black to blue, and then you leave it there because you know James like it that colour. But then you change it back faster than ever because does he really like it, how can you be _sure_?

Soft steps are suddenly echoing in the tiny hallway outside the bathroom and you take your boxers off in one swift moment and scurry in behind the shower curtain and turn on the water so you can't hear those steps. You know he won't unlock the door because, basically, you would never lock the door any other time, so James must realize things are different and also, he isn't one to do things like that. And that thought is just killing you because why the fuck can't he break in and storm the shower and attack you and make you realize that he does love you?

But no, he'll just stand there outside the door and wait for you, or maybe he won't even do that, maybe he will walk away when you don't answer because in which way does it matter to him that you're…crying in the shower? Tears begin to fall, you realize, and you think of how pathetic it all is, how you're crying in the shower where one can't tell the teardrops from water drops as though this is some kind of romantic shit-novel.

Then there's a knock on the door and first you think it's someone else that sounded but then there's James' voice saying "Teddy? You okay?" and you can't take it so you sink down on the ice-cold tiles and close your eyes as the warm water streams down on you. You once again think of how you don't know where all this came from, why you suddenly are feeling so alone and unloved and afraid, but no matter how much you try to focus on how James has said "I love you" more times than you can count, it doesn't remove the sticky feeling in your gut that he doesn't.

He knocks again and his voice is a bit louder now. "What happened? Teddy, you have to answer!"

_No_, you whisper in your head. _I don't have to. Fuck, James, don't tell me what I have to do._

It has always been simple between the two of you—one moment you were the best of friends despite the age gap, one moment you graduated and the next you broke up with your fiancée, Victoire. And the very next moment James graduated and you suddenly found yourself much closer again—you hadn't yet recuperated from Victoire and he hadn't yet figured out what to do with his life and he was feeling as though he let his family down by being without work. And without really noticing it happening, you found yourselves being in a relationship, a relationship that meant so much more than anything else could have felt. Because, when your families and friends got over what you had _thought_ was the usual wait-I-had-no-idea-you-really-are-gay shock, they actually weren't as accepting as you had thought they would be.

But never, not even once, has James told you what you _have_ to do, and that makes you feel even more uncomfortable. This isn't how things are supposed to be. He is, first of all, supposed to love _you_, as in love Teddy Lupin and not The Only Gay Boy Around, and secondly, he shouldn't be demanding things of you.

"Teddy?" he says, and you hear something that sounds as though he puts his hands against the door. "Please, just open! I'm worried."

You don't answer this time either; you just stay there on the floor and hug your knees to your body. Your eyes stay focused on the mirror and where he a few weeks ago put up a sticker of a rabbit, which he had found when he had been grocery shopping.

Your fingers are shaking, you realize, as they touch the skin on your legs. You want James' fingertips to trace your body, you want him to hold you and you want him to promise you that he will never stop loving you, and that he does love you so fucking much it hurts.

But if you ask him to do it, it won't be real.

"Teddy Lupin!" You don't look up now either, but he has raised his voice now, and he pounds twice on the door, even. "Open this fucking door, right now!"

"Go away," you say in a breath, and you know he can't hear you.

"I don't know what's wrong, please, just—" He trails off, and you hear a sound that probably means he has hit the palm of his hand on the door.

Everything becomes quiet. You close your eyes and try to focus on the beat of your heart in your ears. It's steady, and it reminds you of lying with your head on James' chest and listening to his heartbeat.

"Open it," you say, but your voice is broken so you have to clear your throat. "Open the door."

The sound of a spell being cast echoes, and then the door opens in absolutely no time at all, and then, then you hear him being in front of you so you open your eyes.

"What is it?" he asks, and he kneels down on the floor and he's only wearing boxers so it doesn't matter that you are in the shower. He must see something in your face because then his eyes do something weird and the next second he's all over you and hugging you so close that you can't tell what's you and what's him. He mumbles something in your hair and you can't tell what because you're busy thinking _he loves me, he loves me, he loves me_, as though you have to hammer it into your brain.

"I love you," he then says as though he can read your mind, and he leaves from where he's been snuggling into your neck in that way that makes you shudder, and he stares at you without even blinking once and you can't look away.

"Promise?" you ask in a whisper, and he leans his forehead against yours slowly.

Then he kisses you hardly and you have to lean your head against the wall because of the suddenness in his movement. "I. Fucking. Promise. You. Teddy. Lupin."

"Thank you." And then his arms are holding you even tighter and you feel as though you can breathe again.


End file.
